Something
by Moonbyrd
Summary: Another year of startling discoveries.... Slash: H/D, P/O (More to come?)
1. Default Chapter

LISTEN UP!!! I do NOT, sadly, own any of the Harry Potter characters, nor do I own any Quidditch teams or any broomsticks or cauldrons or magic robes or owls or flying motorcycles. I am not getting paid for this; I write these stories to occupy my time and give others something to distract them from work. J. K. Rowling would probably cry if she ever read any of this, so please, shhhhh, don't tell her. I promise to put them back just the way I found them!  
  
This is for Lunadeath-I know I promised it a while ago, hun, but you know how these things go...anyway, here's part one! Enjoy, and I'll get more done at some point, don't lose hope!!!  
  
Title: Something  
Author: Moonbyrd  
Rating: None, yet. PG-13, just to be safe.  
Spoilers: If you haven't read the books, WHY ARE YOU READING THIS?!  
This is SLASH, people. That means boy-boy romanticism. Don't like it? Go elsewhere. Don't let the door hit you on the way out.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________  
Four owls had arrived during the night. One was Hedwig; she had returned from deliviring a letter to Sirius, carrying in its stead a small package wrapped in nondescript brown paper. Another was Pigwidgeon; the tiny card carrying owl was actually what had startled Harry from his rest. The third owl was a beautiful, regal fellow with feathers of a warm brown color that had evidently been sent by Hermione. The fourth was one of the school owls and had come bearing the annual list of supplies.  
  
"Shut /i, Pig," Harry muttered, trying to hold the exuberant owl's beak closed. "Here, have some toffee." With Pigwidgeon taken care of, he relieved the school owl of its envelope and tossed the letter on his bed for later examination. The school owl clucked once at the happily preoccupied Pig and took off through Harry's open window. Hedwig ruffled her feathers and perched sleepily by the brown owl on the headboard of Harry's bed. Harry reached out to stroke her head while he tried to open the card from Ron with one hand. After a rather interesting process, he succeeded and began to read.  
  
iHarry,  
  
Just thought we'd let you know that Ron may have a little trouble trying to get his gift to you on time. Fred and I asked Pig very nicely if he'd do us this favor just once, so as soon as the little idiot's beak is unstuck (we KNOW you had to have given him something to make him shut up by now), be a dear and shove him out the window, please.  
  
And now on to the real purpose of writing you this nice little note!  
  
We succeeded (with no small amount of difficulty, may I add) in advertising some of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes! For your birthday, and we wish you a very happy one indeed, please find enclosed...duhm duhm DUHM...your gift! Enjoy it, Harry! Since Fred and I are no longer going to be around, we expect you and Ron to take over for us as Gryffindor's resident sources of terror. Use things wisely!  
  
Come visit us at the Burrow any time, Harry. Mum would love to see you. Ginny would, too. See you around sometime!  
  
La!  
-George/i  
  
"Oh dear," Harry muttered, blinking. "I'm almost afraid to ask." He flipped the card closed and peered at the back. The words "Tap me!" could be read in flashing ink in the center of the card. Sighing, Harry closed his eyes, steeled his nerves and poked the writing with a finger. When nothing exploded, he dared a glance at the card again. A slot had appeared where the writing had been and small slips of paper were fluttering from it to fall on Harry's lap. The astounded boy picked one up and read, "GIFT CERTIFICATE: A Special Someone has felt Kind enough to present you with this Valuable Item. Redeemable at Honeyduke's locations all Across England. Value: Five Assorted items from any 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' Selection!"  
  
Pigwidgeon squawked. Rolling his eyes, the amused boy pointed at the still open window and moved onto Hermione's gift. First came the letter:  
  
iDear Harry,  
  
Happy Birthday!  
  
Meet Chaucer, my new owl. Well, actually, he's the family owl, but since I'm the only witch I consider him mine.i/  
  
Harry looked up at the two owls resting on his headboard. "Chaucer, hm?" Hedwig shuffled a bit closer to the large owl and ruffled her feathers again. Chuckling, Harry returned to the letter.  
  
iHe and Hedwig seem to get along very well. This could be the beginning of a good friendship. Or something.  
  
Anyway, here's a clipping from the Daily Prophet that I thought you might like. It certainly knocked me out of reality for a moment or two. You'll never believe it, but I think you may have found an unlikely new ally.  
  
Have a fantastic time during the rest of the summer! Or, as much of one as you can. If things get too desperate, I think I heard Ron mention something about Fred and George tapping into the Floo system a while back. Here's some powder, just in case.  
  
I'll see you in Diagon Alley, I'm sure!  
  
Love,  
Hermione/i  
  
The clipping was indeed a surprise. "CORRUPTION AT THE MINISTRY, by Rita Skeeter." Almost dismayed, Harry read softly aloud, "It has come to the attention of this dedicated news witch that the Minister of Magic has committed a grievous offense against a defenseless being. One Siruis Black, the supposed traitor and murderer, was held in Azkaban without trial for thirteen years before his escape, three years ago today. Witches and wizards, allow me, Rita Skeeter, to set the record straight; SIRIUS BLACK IS INNOCENT."  
  
"WHAT?!" Harry shouted. He instantly clapped a hand over his mouth and watched the door warily, but when Vernon Dursely failed to crash into the room after a few moments, he took another breath and returned his attention to the article.  
  
"It has come to the attention of this hard working woman of truth that the poor creature known as Sirius Black is truly innocent of any Death Eater activity. With apologies to the family of one Peter Pettigrew, allow me to explain; Black, seen at right, was NOT the Secret Keeper for the unfortunate Lily and James Potter on the night of You-Know-Who's demise. He had felt himself unworthy of this task, and asked the Potters earlier that week to transfer the responsibility to another of the Potters' close friends; Peter Pettigrew. Pettigrew was an unregistered Animagus who took the shape (fittingly) of a rat. Friends, allow me to describe to you the horrors unleashed upon Sirius Black after the transfer...."  
  
And so on. Harry read, entranced, the entire story of Peter's betrayal. With wide eyes, he glanced at the photograph. A cheerful, much younger Sirius waved back at him from a broomstick. The grin on the youthful face was unstrained, the brotherly arm slung around the shoulders of an equally enthusiastic...James Potter...was waving the pther boy's left arm exuberantly. "iThe innocent Sirius Black and the unfortunate James Potter after winning a game of Quidditch for Gryffindor House in their Seventh Year at Hogwarts. Black was a Prefect and served as the team's Keeper/i," read the caption.  
  
Harry blinked at the picture, wishing he dared go downstairs for scissors to add the photo to his album. He felt himself smiling as the young Sirius Black began making faces. Shaking his head, he returned to reading aloud, focusing on the final paragraph of the article. "Due to the unjustifiable actions of one Cornelius Fudge, this poor, innocent man has been denied a life of love and promise. What is more, the refusal of the Minister of Magic to allow a trial for Black has forced one of the wizarding world's finest to live in deplorable conditions. The young mister Harry Potter, the son of Lily and James Potter who defeated You-Know-Who sixteen years ago, when just an infant, has been living with Muggles of the worst kind; magic haters. Witches and wizards, please assist this determined reporter in her efforts to clear Sirius Black's name so that young Harry may live with his loving godfather as a member of the magical world, just as his parents would have wished. Humbly outraged, Rita Skeeter."  
  
"Incredible," Harry murmured and shook his head. Hedwig hooted softly as he put the clipping down and lifted the brown package she had brought him. "Dare I?" Harry asked her, amused when she shook her head. He carefully untied the string and peeled away the paper to reveal a shirt. Raising an eyebrow, he lifted the shirt and unfolded it. There was a snitch on the left sleeve and the back read, "Call me the Boy Who Lived and Die" in flashing colors. Laughing, Harry put the shirt down and picked up the letter that had been tucked under it. The handwriting did not belong to Sirius.  
  
iDear Harry,/i it began,  
  
iHappy Birthday!  
  
The current misson is going well, which was really only to be expected. It is merely a treasure hunt of sorts, in any case, although I am hesitant to call Death Eaters 'treasure.' With luck, we'll be back in Hogsmeade before the end of the summer, so we'll write to you once we're there.  
  
The shirt was Sirius' idea, in case you're wondering. I won't describe to you the strange looks we received when we added the "and Die" to the order but rest assured that they were very odd indeed.  
  
Your real gift will be waiting for you at Hogwarts in Hagrid's care. Since we don't want you to burst from curiosity, here's a hint; think Quidditch.  
  
By the way, Sirius says that the answer to your question is, "Yes, thank you very much, and keep your nose to yourself." I'm afraid to ask, so I'll leave you two to your secrets.  
  
See you in a month or two.  
  
Love,  
Remus and Sirius/i  
  
Harry sniggered and put the letter aside. The only thing left in the package was a bag of cookies which Harry happily munched on as he contemplated the chances of the Dursley's fireplace being currently in the Floo network. Deciding that chances were not really all that great, Harry piled his new belongings on the floor and settled into bed. He fell asleep to the sounds of rustling feathers with a smile on his face.  
  
***  
  
"Boy!"  
  
With a start Harry tumbled out of bed, landing on his elbow. "Ouch," he winced, and rubbed the wounded limb as he tottered to his feet. "Yes, Aunt Petunia?"  
  
"We're going into town. Dudders needs some new school things. You're to weed the garden and mop the floors. I expect the house to be spotless when we get back."  
  
Harry opened his door to find his aunt tapping her toe, arms crossed over her thin chest. "You mean you're leaving me here alone?"  
  
Petunia sniffed. "Don't burn my house down."  
  
"I...won't, Aunt Petunia," Harry promised, amazed. "I won't even smudge the windows."  
  
Petunia sniffed again, rolled her eyes, whirled on her heel, and marched away. "Vernon! Let's go. Dudders, go get in the..."  
  
A very surprised Harry stood in the hallway in his nightclothes watching her departing back. "Huh," he said. Hedwig hooted sleepily but encouragingly at him. Harry shook his head at her and wandered over to his window to watch the Dursleys pile into the car and drive off. "Amazing," he told Hedwig and the still-present Chaucer. "Simply amazing."  
  
It was with high spirits that Harry trotted down the steps later that morning, after waking a second time. Humming, he cooked himself breakfast and read the newspaper, a feat he had nevner had the opportunity to complete. He whistled as he washed the dishes, danced with the mop, and literally skipped outside to weed the garden. After the chores were complete, Harry treated himself to a long bath and a rereading of iQuidditch Through the Ages/i.  
  
The phone rang as Harry was dressing. Mumbling a curse, put his shirt down and zipped down the hall to answer the obnoxious appliance. "Hello?"  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Ron?"  
  
"Harry!"  
  
"You're using a phone!"  
  
"Am I doing it right?" Ron increased his volume. "CAN YOU HEAR ME?"  
  
"Ron!" Harry bellowed. "You don't have to shout."  
  
"Oh, sorry. Right, then. Happy birthday, Harry."  
  
A grin spread across Harry's face. "Thanks, Ron."  
  
"Ah, sorry you didn't get a present last night," Ron coughed. "Fred and George kidnapped Pig. He'll be on his way again soon, I promise."  
  
"No rush," Harry plopped to the floor, still grinning. "Nobody's here at the moment."  
  
"Really? How'd you manage that?"  
  
Harry's grin widened. "No idea. They just decided to go shopping and didn't even try to pawn me off on the cat lady."  
  
Ron chuckled. "Wow, Harry. You could have a party."  
  
"Ron, that's not such a bad idea," Harry mused.  
  
"No! Forget I said anything! They'll kill you, Harry."  
  
Harry laughed. "Nah. Although it would be great if you could drop by for a visit."  
  
"Yeah, it would. Or if you wanted to, you could sneak out and come stay here. Mum's been missing you, you know. 'Oh, I just feel so bad for poor Harry'," Ron mocked, " 'having to spend his summer with those dreadful Muggles. He should come live with us, poor thing. Imagine, magic haters! The nerve of Professor Dumbledore, making him live like that.' It continues, Harry. For about three hours. It's quite the show."  
  
"Does she mean it?" Harry asked, barely daring to hope.  
  
"Of course! You should know by now that she's always trying to get you to stay with us."  
  
"Wow," Harry blinked. "I feel special." Ron snorted. Harry laughed again, then offered, "Well, I doubt the Dursley's would miss me much...."  
  
"MUM!" Ron yelped. "Let's go get Harry!"  
  
"Is he in trouble with those wretched people? Oh, I'll just kill them if he's hurt," Harry heard before Ron, choking on his laughter, stopped her.  
  
"No, Mum, he's fine. But the Muggles aren't there now, so it would be the perfect time to go snatch him."  
  
Mrs. Weasley took the phone from her son. "Harry?"  
  
"Hullo, Mrs. Weasley," Harry bit back a chuckle. "How are you?"  
  
"I'm fine, Harry. How are /i?"  
  
"Better than ever, Mrs. Weasley."  
  
"Would you like to come visit, dear?" In the background, Harry could hear Ron whoop.  
  
"I would love to."  
  
"Excellent. Ronald, go tell your father to get the Floo Powder. And see if Fred and George are around somewhere. Harry, we'll be there in a short while, all right?"  
  
"That's fantastic, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you so much," Harry was feeling slightly overwhelmed.  
  
Mrs. Weasley laughed. "Not all at, Harry, dear. Goodbye."  
  
"Goodbye, Mrs. Weasley, and thanks again!" Harry stared at the phone for a minute after hanging up. Then, with a shout, he leapt up and ran up to his room. He packed feverishly, tossing his books and robes together, and snickered when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror while searching for his toothbrush. "Silly boy," he wrinkled his nose at his reflection, "you forgot your shirt!" Toothbrush located, he dashed back to his room and tossed on his new shirt.  
  
Harry sent Hedwig and Chaucer out the window and headed downstairs to write the Dursleys a note explaining the situation. Whistling, he waited jubilantly by the fireplace for the Weasley clan to arrive.  
  
With a rush of wind, Ron tumbled onto the hearth. Harry tackled the redhead as he tried to sit up, eliciting a shriek of laughter from Ron. "Geronimo," called one of the twins before jumping on Harry, and the other whooped before bowling into the pile.  
  
"Oh my," Arthur Weasley said, finding his sons wrestling with their friend. He waded in carefully and began extracting boys one by one. "Don't kill him, George, who would help you invent things? Fred, stop choking Ron. Hello, Harry."  
  
Harry grinned. "Hullo, Mr. Weasley."  
  
"All ready to go?"  
  
"You bet," Harry replied, waving at the pile behind him. "And I wrote the Dursleys a note. They'll be glad to be rid of me."  
  
Ron snorted as he greeted Hedwig. "They'd be happier if they never had to see you again, Harry. Ah, nice shirt."  
  
George and Fred grabbed the trunk. "We'd be happier if Harry never had to see them again," they chorused, wrinkling their noses at the same time.  
  
Harry blinked. "So would I," he muttered fervently. "So would I."  
  
Clearing his throat, Mr. Weasley directed Fred and George to return with the trunk. Once the duo had vanished, he turned to Harry. "You're certain there isn't anything you've forgotten?"  
  
The wistful note in Mr. Weasley's voice made Harry choke back a chuckle. "We can double check. Let me show you the house." The trio spent the better part of an hour examing the Dursley residence, an hour puncuated by exlamations of, "Microwhatsis?" and "How absolutely fascinating."  
  
Eventually, George showed up again. He found them in Dudley's bedroom, where Ron and his father were attempting to make Dudley's computer start up. Harry was collapsed on the bed, shaking with repressed mirth. "I hate to intrude," George shook his head, "but Mum wants to know if you're planning on coming home for dinner. Tomorrow."  
  
"Oh dear," Arthur Weasley sighed. "I lost track of time. Well boys, we'd better go. Grab Hedwig's cage, Harry."  
  
Harry smiled as he stepped into the rekindled fire and waved goodbye to the whirling living room. A moment later, he was engulfed in a hug by Mrs. Weasley's strong arms. "Welcome back to the Burrow, Harry, dear."  
  
Harry hugged back. "Hi, Mrs. Weasley," he crowed happily.  
  
She waved him away. "Call me Molly," she advised him, and greeted her husband.  
  
"I've redecorated," Ron told Harry. "Come up and see!"  
  
The two boys left the rest of the Weasleys in the kitchen to prepare dinner and headed up to Ron's room. Ron made Harry close his eyes before entering the remodeled room, and closed the door behind them. "Go on, then." With no small amount of trepidation, Harry pushed the door open to reveal...a room no longer decked out in blazing orange. Instead of the previous obsession with the Chuddley Cannons, Ron seemed to have developed a fascination with Puddlemere United.  
  
"Wow," Harry said. "When...when did this happen?"  
  
Ron grinned as he threw himself on the bed, where he did not clash with the new blue comforter. "Who knew Percy was so close with Oliver Wood? I mean, sure, they were in the same year, but we never expected him to send us all of this."  
  
Harry laughed as the team members made faces at him from a poster. "Is he officially playing now?"  
  
"The usual Keeper broke his arm eight games in a row," Ron informed him. "The team manager felt he was a liability, since every time he broke his arm, the other team scored. Wood moved up immediately."  
  
"Excellent," Harry breathed, entranced by the poster that showed Oliver half-smiling shyly and blushing. "Why does he look so embarrassed?"  
  
Ron wrinkled his nose. "Oh, he's had women fawning all over him since he got promoted. The photographer was a girl, I believe, and had just said something a little...forward. Percy couldn't stop laughing about it for days. Actually, speaking of Percy-"  
  
A crash from downstairs interrupted him. Laughter echoed up the stairs; evidently two people had just enjoyed a rather interesting story.  
  
"What on earth," Ron muttered as the boys tramped down to the first floor again. "Ack. I might've guessed."  
  
Percy Weasley was leaning against the wall by the fireplace, still chortling and holding his stomach. From his tangled sprawl on the floor, trapped in a pile of Quidditch pads and a broomstick, Oliver Wood glared up at him. "I'm telling you, it wasn't my fault! If those stupid girls would just go /i," Oliver cried, trying to extract himself from the mess. He wasn't having much success.  
  
"You do lead them on, you know," Percy choked down another chuckle and helped Oliver stand. "The way you blush every time one of them screams at you-"  
  
"WHAT IS GOING ON?" Molly Weasley stormed into the room, hands on hips. "I'm trying to make DINNER, and...why, hello, Oliver. Will you be joining us tonight?"  
  
Oliver bobbed his head and smiled sheepishly. "If you don't mind, Mrs. Weasley. I'm a bit afraid to try a restaurant tonight, and I know better than to taste my own cooking."  
  
Molly readily agreed. "I take it you won the game?"  
  
Percy grinned. "They did, indeed. 370-60. Oliver was brilliant; he saved no less than twenty-nine goal shots. You're blushing again, Ol."  
  
"Bugger," Oliver muttered, and looked around for an escape route. His eyes lighted on Harry and Ron, who were standing bemused at the foot of the stairs. "HARRY!" Oliver crowed. He leaped across the room and swept Harry into a bear hug. "Haven't seen you in ages, old fellow. How goes the old team?"  
  
"Can't...breathe..."  
  
"Oh, sorry."  
  
Harry blinked. "Not a problem," he assured Oliver, rubbing his side.  
  
"Boys! Dinner!"  
  
Ron shrugged at Harry. "Best not keep her waiting. She still thinks you're too skinny, you know."  
  
Harry made a face but, as he trailed behind the still snickering Percy and the self-righteous Oliver, he couldn't help but think how wonderful the rest of his summer would be. 


	2. 2

LISTEN UP!!! I do NOT, sadly, own any of the Harry Potter characters, nor do I own any Quidditch teams or any broomsticks or cauldrons or magic robes or owls or flying motorcycles. I am not getting paid for this; I write these stories to occupy my time and give others something to distract them from work, because that is the helpful kind of person I am. J. K. Rowling would probably cry if she ever read any of this, so please, shhhhh, don't tell her. I promise to put them back just the way I found them!  
Title: Something  
Author: Moonbyrd  
Rating: None, yet. PG-13, just to be safe.  
Spoilers: If you haven't read the books, WHY ARE YOU READING THIS?!  
"So, Harry, how's your summer been?" Oliver clasped his hands behind his head and stared at the stars.  
  
"Fairly terrible," Harry responded cheerfully, chewing on a piece of grass. "I was ready to climb the walls when Ron called; all I've done is chores."  
  
Ron made a face. "Those Muggles are worse than Filch," he spat, eliciting a snort from Harry and a raised eyebrow from Percy.  
  
The four boys were sprawled across the lawn, watching the sky. According to Percy, there was supposed to be a meteor shower more spectacular than any in the past seventy-six years. Due to a lack of desire to play yet another round of Exploding Snap, Harry and Ron had accepted Percy's tentative invitation to stargaze, a decision that resulted in four content boys each lazily trying to count more meteors than the others.  
  
"Unless those Muggles have chains in their offices, they're nowhere near as terrible as Filch," Percy interjected. "Seventeen."  
  
"Nineteen," Oliver called, "and twenty."  
  
Harry stretched. "Actually, Uncle Vernon does have chains in his office. He sells hardware."  
  
Percy shook his head in amazement. "The things people do for a living. Twenty-six, and twenty-seven."  
  
"Thirty-one," Ron offered. "And that seems a bit funny, coming from a person who measures cauldron bottoms for a living, has a brother who routinely plays with dragons, and another brother who purposely gets himself attacked by mummies every Tuesday."  
  
"Forty-two," Harry said.  
  
"Forty-five."  
  
"Fifty-six."  
  
"You did not see fifty-six."  
  
"Yes I did, Ron."  
  
"No, you didn't."  
  
"Ronald, I believe I can count."  
  
"You're obviously mistaken, Percy, because you skipped from forty-nine to fifty-six in a period in which only three shooting stars moved."  
  
"So, Harry," Oliver cleared his throat. "Want to see Percy's face match his hair?"  
  
Harry dared a glance at the quarreling brothers. "I think it already does."  
  
Oliver chuckled. "Nah, that's only a light flush. If you want him to really turn red, you've got to do /I." He darted forward and grabbed Percy, then proceeded to drag the elder Weasley to the ground and tickle him mercilessly until tears fell from his clenched eyes.  
  
"Oliver!" Percy choked out, trying not to laugh, "Stop that at ONCE!" Wood obeyed, grinning like a madman at Percy's scarlet complexion.  
  
"That," Ron admitted, "was a spectacular example of a tickle attack." Percy made a face at his brother and ordered him inside to find drinks. With a cheerful shrug and a salute, Ron marched back to the Burrow to unearth something to munch on.  
  
Harry settled back on the ground, propping himself up on his elbows. He snorted as Percy delivered a beautiful lecture on the responsibilities of friendship and the reasons one should not tickle one's best friend, and laughed outright as Oliver responded with another lecture just as beautiful on the responsibilities of friendship and the reasons one should never pass up an opportunity to make one's best friend turn red.  
  
"Regardless of the duties of best friendship, one should, at the very least....mmpf."  
  
Harry glanced over to see what had silenced Percy. And stared. And blinked. And stared some more.  
  
"That," Oliver breathed, breaking the kiss, "is the privelege." Percy, blinking, replied, "No, that's boyfriendship." Oliver grinned as Percy kissed him again, softly, and ran his hands contentedly through the red hair.  
  
"I got some muffins, and Ma made us some lemon...hey, hey! Guys! Get a room!" Ron pegged the back of Percy's head with a blueberry muffin. "There's an uninitiated person about to have a heart attack sitting right next to you. Harry, breathe. In, out. Harry? Hello?"  
  
Oliver blushed and hid behind his hands. "Crimeny, Harry, I completely forgot you were there. Um."  
  
Harry titled his head to one side. "That was...unexpected. Toss me a muffin, Ron."  
  
Three heads swiveled to stare at the boy. "You're taking this rather well," Percy observed. "Ah, I'm sorry you had to find out that way. I assumed Ron had told you."  
  
"Nope," Harry said around a mouthful of raspberry muffin. "But that's okay. When did this happen?"  
  
Oliver plucked the abused blueberry pastry from the grass. "About four months ago. Penny and Percy called it off, she went to France, and Percy came to me."  
  
"You're forgetting the six month interval in which you sent me numerous, often unsubtle, hints," Percy admonished wryly. Oliver smiled at him sheepishly and Percy ruffled his hair.  
  
Laughing, Harry turned to Ron. "That sounds like it might have been interesting."  
  
The younger Weasley rolled his eyes. "It was disturbing. I have never read more sickeningly sweet bad poetry in my life."  
  
"I do NOT write bad poetry!" Oliver exclaimed. He sniffed, "I'm just not overly talented in the area of rhyme."  
  
Ron made a face at him before continuing, "After the first two weeks or so, Percy began to realize that Oliver was trying to get at something. Guess who he came running to for help? Me. Lucky, lucky me. He started making me act as his fashion consultant; every time he went out, he had to look perfect, just in case he ran into Oliver somewhere."  
  
"You enjoyed it," Oliver sulked.  
  
"Actually, yes." Ron grinned at Oliver's surprised expression. "It's not every day that Percy comes running to someone for help."  
  
"Hm," Harry considered, returning his attention to the sky. The quartet fell silent as another wave of meteors washed overhead. "Do your parents know?"  
  
Percy and Oliver looked at each other. "No," Percy said finally. I...haven't been able to...find the right time to tell them. Fred and George know. And...Ginny."  
  
"Alicia Spinnet," Oliver offered, "and Katie Bell. They walked into the twins' shop to see us snogging one day."  
  
"Business was slow," Percy muttered defensively.  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "In any case, there's only a handful of people who know about them and they're trying to keep it that way. Every once in a while, though, they forget. Then I get to do cleanup. Threats, black eyes, that sort of thing. Hey!" Percy had reached over and pushed his brother to the ground. "That was completely uncalled for, Perce."  
  
Percy made a face at him and stole some of Oliver's muffin. "Called for or not, it was gratifying. Well, Ol, shall we turn in for the night?"  
  
"Already? It's only-" Oliver stole a glance at his watch "-one twenty. Oh. I have practice at nine, don't I?" His boyfriend snorted and helped him stand. "Well, Harry, it's great to see you. The next game is Tuesday, if you'd like to come. I can get you seats easily. Just let me know. It'd be fantastic to have you in the crowd."  
  
Harry grinned. "That would be awesome, Oliver. Thanks!"  
  
"Stop soliciting," Percy wrapped an arm around Oliver's shoulder. "Good night, Harry. Ron." The couple turned and wandered back to the house, Oliver leaning his head on Percy's shoulder. Ron waved at them and turned back to Harry.  
  
"These are fantastic muffins," Harry murmured. Ron agreed, munching thoughtfully on a blueberry.  
  
"You truly don't mind," Ron asked, as if afraid to hear the answer, "honestly, that Percy's gay?"  
  
Harry blinked. "It...surprised me. He was the one of you I least expected it from. But no, I don't mind. In fact, they're rather adorable as a couple. I'm a bit curious as to why nothing happened while they were at Hogwarts."  
  
A laugh came from Ron. "They were hopeless, and you know it. Oliver didn't have lust for anything but Quidditch, and Percy was the same way about books. The Penelope situation didn't help matters much, either. I guess Percy just never really thought about it until his relationship with Penny started breaking up."  
  
"How did that happen?"  
  
"Oh, Penelope went to France for a bit and fell in love with a couple of things about it. First was the landscape. She wrote letter after letter to Percy gushing about the scenery. The big one, though, she waited to drop until she returned. She and Percy went for a long walk one afternoon. He came back a few hours later looking as if he wasn't quite sure which direction was up. By some odd twist of fate, I was the only one home when he came back, and he asked if we could talk things over for a bit." He chuckled. "I don't think I've ever been so shocked in my life. It seems Penny met up with an 'old acquaintance' in France, and they fell madly in love. Penny wanted to tell Percy in person, for various reasons. You'll never guess the person."  
  
Harry shrugged.  
  
"Exactly. Penny and Percy kept their relationship going for a while, to keep others happy, until Penny got herself transferred to France. She's shacking up with Fleur."  
  
Harry choked. "WHO?"  
  
"Indeed."  
  
"Well," Harry gaped. "Speaking of unexpected."  
  
Ron nodded and stood. "The sky's getting cloudy. Might rain in a bit. Let's head inside, Harry. If Mum figures out that we were out so late, she'll flip a switch. She's been trying to convince me to 'keep a reasonable bedtime,' which for her means eight or so. Personally, I think three in the morning is a perfectly reasonable time." Still grumbling, he led the way back to the Burrow. Harry, bemused, followed in the redhead's wake. He had a lot of things to think over.  
*****  
With an echoing BANG-CLANK, the ghoul in the attack celebrated the arrival of seven o'clock in the morning. Harry yelped and leapt from his cot while Ron groaned and buried his head under the pillow. "Just five more years, please. I only want to sleep for five years. Is that such a bad thing?"  
  
Through a yawn, Harry told him, "It's our own fault for staying up. Besides, we might have missed breakfast if we slept too late." Ron grumbled incoherently and dug himself further into his blankets. Harry laughed at his reluctant friend and wandered out into the hallway.  
  
A squeal alterted him to Ginny's presence a moment before she tackled him. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!"  
  
"Yikes," Harry blinked up at the ceiling. "Um, thanks, Ginny. I wondered where you were yesterday."  
  
"Colin's," she replied promptly. "He's been teaching me about photography."  
  
Harry smiled. "Is he still treating you right?" Ginny snorted. "He'd be a dead man if he didn't. If I didn't hurt him, Ron would personally make sure he was a heap of very sore bones before turning him over to Fred and George. And they'd rip him apart before letting Ma at him."  
  
"Remind me never to anger any member of your family," Harry said. "I don't think Madam Pomfrey would be able to put me back together." Ginny just grinned, gave him another hug, and raced down the stairs.  
  
"That doesn't look overly comfortable," Oliver observed, bringing his head into Harry's field of view. "Need some help?"  
  
Reaching up to grab the proffered hand, Harry agreed. "I'm beginning to think that any involvement with the members of this household could be hazardous to a person's health."  
  
Ron, who was emerging from his bedroom, rolled his eyes. "You're just figuring that out now? If anyone ever hurts any member of my family, we'll hurt them worse." He turned a feral grin at Oliver, who smiled and shrugged.  
  
"I know, I know, Ron. If I ever say, do, or think something that could upset Percy, you will personally make sure that I am never able to fly again, heal slowly, and have recurring accidents involving sharp and blunt objects and knuckles. And then you'll turn me over to the twins. Who will use me as a test subject for their less safe creations. And then roast me over a slow fire and make me walk the plank. And then they'll shove me off on Charlie, who'll get every dragon he's ever worked with to bite me, and then he'll call Bill. Bill will curse me with every single one of those vicious little Egyptian curses, drag me out into the desert, leave me to die, change his mind, lock me up with a bunch of undead people, and leave my pitiful remains on the side of some road where the buzzards and vultures can grab bits of me and feed me to their children. Even though Bill and Charlie haven't found out about me yet."  
  
"You learn well," Ron said proudly. "That was almost word-for-word."  
  
"BOYS! Breakfast!"  
  
Harry cheered, "Food!" and took off down the stairs. Ron and Oliver, laughing, followed. They found Molly Weasley slicing a loaf of bread and Ginny pouring glasses of juice. Percy appeared, holding a bowl of fruit, followed closely by his father. Arthur Weasley greeted Harry with a smile, handed him an apple, and went to help his wife. His children seated themselves at the table and applied themselves to the food with a vengence. Harry laughed, joked, and enjoyed himself thoroughly, feeling almost like part of the family. It wasn't really a new experience for him; he felt this way everytime he visited the Burrow, but Harry never tired of the comfortable, kind atmosphere.  
  
"C'mon, Mrs. Weasley," Oliver was wheedling at one end of the table. "You never come to my games. Just one game, that's all I'm asking. Please?"  
  
"I have a lot of housework to do," Molly defended herself, "and you don't want an old thing like me cheering you on. You'd be embarrassed to see me up in the stands."  
  
"And miss your lovely face?! Never!" Oliver widened his eyes and pleaded, "You'd love it, you really would. I'd take you to the team parties. All the guys would be jealous of me, all the girls would be horrid compared to you, and I'd be the luckiest man alive-"  
  
"Oh, you." Molly blushed, laughed, and waved him away. "Flatterer. That's a lie, and you know it."  
  
Oliver pretended to be stricken. "A lie? My heart! You hurt me, my love." He ducked the grape she flicked at him and grinned. "Just one game, just one. Please? On Tuesday? Bring the whole family. Bring Harry! Harry wants to come!"  
  
Harry laughed into his scrambled eggs and turned his attention to Percy and Ginny. "-first Muggle photo I've ever developed," she was saying. "It was so strange. They didn't even wave. Colin kept laughing at me; he took a large amount of amusement from the fact that I kept waving the picture around, hoping to wake them up."  
  
Ron, next to Harry, was flicking bread crumbs at his father with his fork. Arthur, at the other end of the table, was sending back blueberries and the occasional bit of egg. "Whoops, sorry, Harry. My aim is a bit off today."  
  
With a chuckle, Harry picked the egg from his hair. "That's okay, Mr. Weasley. No harm done."  
  
A gigantic "HURRAH!" rose from Oliver, who had succeeded in his negotiations. "That's tickets for Tuesday afternoon. Fantastic! I'll have you right up in the top box, you'll love it!" He whirled to mock-glare at the others. "You had better all come. Gin, you want Colin to come, too?"  
  
"He can't, sorry," Ginny sighed. "His family's going on a trip until right before school."  
  
"Poor baby," Ron ruffled her hair. "Whatever are you going to do without him?" His sister sniffed and contrived to look pained. "I'll live," she said.  
  
Percy rose from the table, saying, "You'd better head off, Ol. Didn't you have be at this practice early?"  
  
"Drat," Oliver muttered, looking at the clock. "Thanks a bundle, Mrs. Weasley. Without you, I'd be skin and bones."  
  
"Off with you," she admonished. "You'll be late. And we'll see you soon. Have a good practice, dear."  
  
Percy placed his dishes in the sink and kissed his mother goodbye. "Errands to run. I'll be back by three."  
  
"Want to go practice some Quidditch, Harry?"  
  
"Sure, Ron. Thanks for breakfast, Mrs. Weasley."  
*****  
"Ready to go, Harry?" Ron thumped cheerfully down the stairs. "Mum and Dad already Flooed to the stadium." Ginny skipped past them, singing something about "going to a Quidditch match for free because my brother's snogging the Keeper" and dashed into the fireplace.  
  
"All set," Harry told him, and off they went.  
  
The game was spectacular. While not as vicious as the World Cup had been, the plays were still run at lightning speed and Oliver had a lot of work to do. He had missed four goal shots and stopped seven when Puddlemere's Seeker pulled out of a steep dive, the Snitch held firmly in her hand. The navy blue spectators went wild as the team flew a victory lap and landed in a huddle, looking as if they were talking about something.  
  
"What's up down there," Ron wondered aloud, peering over the edge of the box, as the players shot into the air again. The Puddlemere United team, to the consternation of the quieting crowd, approached the other team. It seemed as if they were asking something, to which the opposing team nodded their heads and developed smiles. The fans were silent as both teams approached the Top Box with gigantic grins.  
  
Oliver winked at Harry and the Weasleys and hovered next to the announcer. He murmured something which made the announcer's eyes widen. The balding man handed the magical microphone to Oliver, who smiled his thanks and flew out over the pitch.  
  
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WITCHES AND WIZARDS!" Wood's voice rang out. "We have a very special group in the crowd today. Some of my favorite people happen to be in the stands, and I'd like to thank them for coming to cheer us on." Cheers rose from the crowd for a brief moment before Wood held up his hand for silence. "One of these people just had a very special day; a birthday." Harry's ears turned red. "And I, ladies and gents, completely forgot. So! In order to repent, I have bribed the teams to redeem me." Oliver, with a wicked grin, spun to face Harry, who was now completely red. "To you, Seeker of my old team at Hogwarts, who lost only one game and that only because you lost consciousness-" Harry covered his face with his hands "-I'd like to say...HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY POTTER!"  
  
The two teams surrounding the Top Box burst into song as the crowd gasped as one. With much hoarseness and off-key bellowing, Harry was treated to "Happy Birthday to You." Scarlet, he thanked the teams and hugged Wood, who had dismounted. "I'll get you for this," he muttered to Oliver, who winked at him again.  
  
"No you won't," Oliver assured him. "I've got Percy; he's my first line of defense." Harry laughed and pushed him away. Ron, who had overheard, snorted. The Keeper stuck his tongue out at them and remounted, then flew with his teammates back to the ground and into the locker rooms.  
_________________  
Ron, Percy, Ginny and Harry were waiting for him in the hallway when he emerged from the locker room, freshly showered. "That was a wonderful game, Ol," Ron congratulated him, receiving one of the athlete's smiles. "Mum says to give you a hug."  
  
"Do it and die, Ronald," Percy warned. Ron shrugged.  
  
"Where are your parents?" Oliver asked, glancing around. He hefted the bag filled with Quidditch pads that was slung over his shoulder and winced.  
  
"Is your shoulder bothering you?" Percy asked sharply, eyes narrowed. His boyfriend shook his head and muttered something about getting a new bruise from running into one of the goal posts.  
  
"Mum and Dad decided to go visit the shop," Ginny announced. "We told them we'd show up eventually."  
  
One of Oliver's teammates sauntered by. "Hey, Wood! Don't forget your promise!"  
  
"Forget? Me? Never! Eh-heh."  
  
"What promise," Harry asked curiously.  
  
Oliver sighed and looked at Percy warily. "Remember when I said I bribed them?" A graceful red eyebrow rose. "Well...they...kinda...they've figured I was...involved with someone for a while now...and...they've been wanting...to...that is...I thought maybe...." He trailed off, looking vaguely worried. "Don't hurt me, Perce, but...IpromisedthatiftheysangforHarryI'dbringyoutodinnerwithustonightandshowyouoff."  
  
All four of them blinked. "...Oh," said Percy, blankly.  
  
Ron bounced. "I'll tell Mum you remembered a report that was due at the Ministry tomorrow." His elder brother shot him a sour look and opened his mouth to complain, but Oliver stepped in.  
  
"Look, Percy, I know this is a big step, but we've been together for long enough that I think I'm ready to start sharing you. These guys are like my family, Perce. Please? Just one dinner? If you hate them, I promise I'll tell them we broke up and you'll never have to face them again. I swear. But I really think you'll get along well."  
  
Percy sighed. "Olly..."  
  
"Please?" The dark haired boy laid a hand on Percy's elbow. "Just for tonight? A trial?"  
  
Biting his lip, Percy mumbled, "Okay. I'll give it a try." Oliver flashed him a quick, happy smile, and turned back to face the forgotten trio. Ron was swooning over Ginny's arm and Harry was batting his eyelashes furiously. Ginny, her face red with suppressed laughter, was trying to pay homage to both Ron and Harry.  
  
It was an interesting spectacle, but short lived. "Ahem," Percy clucked his tongue. "Very funny."  
  
"Pushover," Ron commented, making the lovers blush.  
  
"I am not-" Percy began, but was cut short by another of Oliver's teammates.  
  
"WOOD! I need you! Now! You promised to help me figure out what to get Henry, and I need to get it NOW and you're coming with me!!" The Puddlemere Seeker began her tirade at one end of the hallway and ended it latched firmly onto Oliver's arm. "Our anniversary is tomorrow, and I haven't had a chance to shop yet!! Now bring your good taste and fashion sense and HELP ME!!!" She pushed short brown hair out of her eyes and glared up at him. "I swear by Merlin that if you bail out on me-"  
  
"Kara, geez! Slow down," carefully, Oliver detached himself. "In a minute, okay?"  
  
She pouted, then glanced about at the group. "Oh, sorry. I didn't even realize you were actually talking with them. I thought you were just being mobbed again."  
  
A laugh rumbled up from Percy's chest, earning him a mock-glare from Oliver. "I must admit, your protectiveness is charming," the redhead said dryly. Oliver punched him lightly, making a face. "She loves me," he pouted. "Unlike some people."  
  
"Hi," Harry said, sensing a storm brewing. "The game was fantastic."  
  
Kara peered at him, then grinned. "Thanks. And happy birthday." She shook his hand. "It's a pleasure, Harry. You play Seeker, right?" At his nod, she grinned wolfishly. "Maybe someday we'll get to play each other." Her attention strayed to the three redheads. "Aside from this one here...care to introduce me?"  
  
The Keeper nodded. "They're all Weasleys. That's Ginny-"  
  
"Hey, great catch," Ginny and Kara shook hands.  
  
"-this is Ron-" Ron, looking ready to faint, shook hands quickly and silently.  
  
"And," Oliver faltered, looking at Percy with uncertainty. The other man took pity on him, offering a gentle smile.  
  
"I'm Percy. Ah. I'm...with him."  
  
"YOU'RE THE ONE?!" Kara stared, eyes round with amazement. "For crying out loud, Wood! You didn't tell me he was gorgeous!" She tackled Percy, wrapping him in a bear hug. "I'm jealous!"  
  
Oliver errupted into laughter and Percy emitted a squeak. Ron, Harry, and Ginny, bemused, watched as Percy extracted himself gingerly from her grip and took shelter behind Oliver. "You'll see him later," Oliver reminded his pouting teammate. "I promised, remember?"  
  
At this, Kara brightened. "Right. Well, remember, you DO still need to take me shopping. I only have two weeks till the anniversary, so start thinking of things. It was great to meet you all. I'll see more of you two later," she winked at Oliver and Percy and waved to them all. "Ciao for now, babe." She meandered off, whistling.  
  
Behind Oliver, Percy was banging his head into the wall. His boyfriend, torn between laughing and trying to comfort the distressed Weasley, looked to Ron for support.  
  
"We'll go let Mum and Dad know that you've gone to start that report you forgot, Perce," Ron led Ginny and Harry away. "Take care of him tonight, Ol. And make sure he doesn't touch any sharp objects. And don't give him caffeine." Oliver and Percy waved their goodbyes as the trio rounded a corner.  
  
"I can't wait to hear the stories," Ginny bubbled as she stepped into the fireplace. "The Burrow!"  
  
Ron and Harry looked at each other. "After you," Ron bowed. Harry, with an eyebrow raised, made his escape, trying not to blush. 


End file.
